


Francophile

by hisen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 18th Century, Doomed Relationship, Duelling, F/M, Hetalia Kink Meme, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisen/pseuds/hisen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia has learnt to love French culture. Loving a French woman, however, proves to be much more complicated.</p>
<p>(de-anon, written for the prompt 'dating other nation's people')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Francophile

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt:  
>  _Premise - Nations would never dream of dating their own people. It'd feel icky and wrong; their people are like their children. They don't even like to form very close friendships; it feels too much like favouritism._  
>  Other nation's people, however, are fair game.  
>  _Any character, any time period is fine, although historical fills would be especially loved!_
> 
> There's minor character death.

"I demand satisfaction! I challenge you to a duel, you dog!" Russia paused, finally stopping to look at the young man who had been pursuing him for a mile, whose shouts for attention he'd been ignoring. The man had finally said something that interested him, and unlike the disastrous courtship, this was something he could do.   
  
"Ah. I will duel, but you must know that I do not lose. Ever." He smiled, and even though the young man froze in response to his smile, he did not back away. He knew that it was now illegal but he wasn't worried.  
  
When the Frenchman threw his glove onto the ground and named the time and place, Russia was impressed by the thought and effort Madeleine's brother had put into this. It was a shame he'd never bothered to be much of a man beforehand. Still, even if he was useless, she was going to be very upset when he killed him.   
  
He had to kill him. He didn't plan to start losing duels now, even for her sake. 

* * *

He'd arrived at the ball late. There had been business he had needed to finish for the Tsar, even though he’d been desperate to leave and get ready for the evening. The Tsar had even apologised, saying that he knew that Russia had a belle that he wanted to see but the work was urgent. The French word had rolled awkwardly off his tongue, and Russia was keenly aware that his own French was not much better, despite the lessons he'd taken.   
  
Russia's late arrival meant that he avoided the rush of attention he normally received at these events, including the snobbish comments from the foreigners that the Tsar so greatly encouraged into the life of the city now. The Russian nobles never made such comments, instead they avoided him. He knew that they found him to be crude now that the French ways were so popular but unlike the foreigners they were aware that he was their nation and stemmed their complaints.   
  
It was a little lonely but he was used to it. Most nations kept a respectable distance between themselves and their people.  
  
"Ah, Ivan Yuryevich!" There she was, the reason he had been so eager to attend the ball tonight. Her voice rang out to him as she split away from the group of fellow merchant families she’d been associating with and headed towards him. From what he understood, her clothes were of the newest style straight from Paris and they made her look very beautiful. He had to admit though that he’d probably find her just as beautiful in the clothes of a poor babushka.   
  
"Mademoiselle." She smiled at him as she reached him, pushing a stray blonde hair out of her face before offering him her hand. Russia took it and kissed it – it still felt odd doing it to a woman instead of a priest or king but France had told him it was the European way – and she blushed.   
  
"Shall we dance, Vanya?" She asked excitedly, using his diminutive now that they would not be overheard, and Russia almost wanted to say no. He’d had dancing lessons from a French instructor, the Tsar had insisted on them so that Russia did not embarrass him on their visit to Europe, but he had no talent for it. He missed the days when his leaders had expected him just to be an outstanding soldier instead of a diplomatic gentleman as well.  
  
He was a really good soldier. Even the Golden Horde had been forced to acknowledge him while they tried to crush him – and Sweden, he thought smugly as memories of the war that had led to the creation of this city came to him.   
  
But even if he couldn't dance, he couldn't deny Madeleine something that made her so happy.

"Oui." He heard the minuet start as they went over to the dance floor and prepared himself for the worst.   
  
"I'll help you, don't worry." Madeleine whispered to him, aware of how nervous dancing made him (he was an Empire who'd fought Sweden and won and here he was, nervous of dancing). He knew she would be able to direct him, the words to guide him dropping musically off her tongue in a language he spoke appallingly, her feet and movements elegant where he was rough, and he wondered, not for the first time, why she was letting him romance her. There was no shortage of other men who were interested in such a beautiful unmarried woman.   
  
At least when he'd been with the wives of Dutch merchants at Arkhangelsk Russia was able to guess that their loneliness had allowed him in.

* * *

The pale light of dawn was filtering through the darkness of the night as Russia made his way to the location of their duel. He'd been here before for this purpose, the marshland just beyond city limits was an ideal place for duelling. He saw a distant lantern coming towards him, but he could hear no speech, despite the fact that the Frenchman had chosen another countryman as his second – Russia had no second, he didn't require one.   
  
"Over there." He heard one of them say – he couldn't tell who at this distance.   
  
How strange it was, to find himself in this position again, being challenged to protect the honour of someone else. It just had never been for a sister instead of a wife or lover before. 

* * *

Madeleine finally tired of dancing and they left the ballroom together. Her face was flushed but she continued to chatter in rapid French, Russia understanding her but being unable to form any replies before she’d moved onto the next topic. He knew it was considered improper for a couple to be left by themselves like this without any supervision but Madeleine didn't worry.

He led her through the palace, taking her hand into his as they went upstairs, Madeleine still talking away as he led her towards his bedroom. It was only when he opened the door and led her inside that she realised what Russia was thinking and she froze.   
  
"Vanya?" She asked him nervously, her big green eyes staring up at him as he shut the door behind them. He smiled at her, trying to make her relax. It was cute how innocent she suddenly was compared to her normal flirty behaviour.   
  
"I wish to..." He glanced over at the bed and when he looked back at her she was no longer looking at him and her face had gone red.  
  
"We can't, not until we are married."  
  
"But..." She shook her head fiercely.   
  
"No, we must be married." Russia frowned. Had he misunderstood? With the other women he'd been with, this kind of behaviour had always eventually led to the bedroom. Why was Madeleine talking about marriage?   
  
"But we can't marry." Russia pointed out. He'd never shown that he'd been prepared to propose, nations didn't marry humans.   
  
"What? Surely you must have..." Madeleine paused to gather her thoughts before continuing, Russia watching her with interest. "I thought you were preparing to propose. I thought that was why you visited my brother." He had visited her brother, but that was to pass on a message from a Russian merchant he owed money to. Now he understood why he had been pleased to see him when Russia had arrived at his house.  
  
"Why can’t you marry me?" She asked.  
  
"The Tsar won’t let me." It was true; no ruler would let their country marry a foreigner, even though countries could only love them.  
  
"We can leave! If we go to France nobody would stop you from marrying me."  
  
"I can’t leave."  
  
"But Vanya you must want to. This place...it's awful." The words stabbed him in his heart. Even Madeleine who’d always been warm to him when the other French women insulted and ignored him found him awful. "The weather is terrible, the people are crude and the language is barbaric. France is a much more cultured place." He was being compared to France, again, and had been found lacking, again.

"I will never leave. I am this country. The weather, the people, the language, it's all mine." He tried to keep the anger and hurt out of his voice, knowing that he shouldn't reveal that he was the country that she hated so much but he couldn't stop himself. "I am Russia." There was silence, and he finally looked at her again.   
  
"You're..Russia? Like...Francis is France?" He had not expected France's human name to drop from her lips like she knew him well, and even though he was sure France felt the same towards his own people as Russia did, he could feel a snarl of jealousy in his stomach as he looked away from her. "I was wrong. If you are Russia, then I must be wrong, because you are not awful." She took his hand and he didn't shake it away though he still didn't look at her. "I love you. Even if you’re a nation, I still want to be your wife."  
  
"Leave."   
  
"But-"  
  
"Get out!" He yelled, forcing her out of the room before shutting the door again. He could hear her crying outside but didn't open it again, and eventually the crying became more distant until it vanished completely.   
  
It didn't matter if she loved him, or if she could learn to love his culture like he'd been forced to love hers by his leader or that she'd accepted the fact that he was a nation so easily, he couldn't marry her. He couldn't give her what she wanted. He sunk into his chair and rubbed his eyes.   
  
Russia wished, not for the first time, that he was a human and he didn't have these problems. If he was human, he could just marry this woman he loved.   
  
"Fuck."

* * *

The second checked their swords, explaining the rules for their duel as he did. Russia had brought his smallsword, knowing that the Frenchman would have brought one as his weapon. He preferred his broadsword but it didn't matter, he would win regardless.   
  
"The duel will be fought until one party surrenders."  
  
"Not to the death?" Russia asked curiously. He'd never fought a duel which wasn't to the death before, not that it'd make a difference to how he'd fight.   
  
"You want me to kill you, you bastard?" His opponent spat, and Russia realised that whatever Madeleine had told him about her rejected proposal she had left out the fact he was a nation. Oh well, he didn't need to enlighten him about it.   
  
"Hmm, it’ll be more fun if you try to kill me."  
  
"Fine then, to the death!"  
  
"Surely you don’t want to fight him to the death?" His second asked, trying to persuade his friend away from making a suicidal choice.   
  
"This is the only way I can restore the honour of my sister that this bastard stole away from her!"

* * *

"You said you wanted to request a favour from me." The Tsar looked up from the tax proposals he was reading over, and Russia noticed how ill his leader looked. Despite this he pressed ahead.

"I want to marry."  
  
"You want to marry that French woman? Absolutely not." He returned to his work, deeming the conversation over.   
  
"Would you let me marry someone else?" He pushed. He'd never asked before, he had assumed his leader would feel the same as they did in other countries without checking.  
  
"What would you gain from marriage? A marriage is an alliance between families. A good wife is a supportive partner who runs the home for her husband and gives him children. You have no family, your house is already run for you and you cannot have children. You don't need a wife." Russia almost wanted to point out the hypocrisy in his words but bit on his tongue. Whatever hypocrisy there were in these words coming from a man who had divorced his wife and then married his mistress, they were still true words. They were the reasons why Russia had never thought of marrying before. A nation did not need the benefits gained from marriage, and his urges didn't have to be fulfilled in marriage even if the church would disapprove of it.

"Why do you want to marry her? She could just be your mistress instead." Peter did not look at him as he asked, still focused on his work. Russia shifted, uncomfortable sharing his personal feelings with his leader. Most of them hadn't cared what he thought or felt, just demanding that he do whatever they asked of him.   
  
"I love her." He finally said. He knew that from her reaction, Madeleine would not settle for being his mistress, despite what he'd heard about French women. Therefore for her he was willing to ask for this.  
  
"Love is the worst foundation a man can build a marriage on." Peter did not say anything more after this; Russia knew that the topic was now closed and that he was being silently dismissed. He took his leave with his pride wounded from having been lectured like a misbehaving child. 

* * *

The sun was rising and the morning mist starting to lift as Russia withdrew his sword from its scabbard. His opponent did the same and he judged his stance. It was a weak stance, showing that he was not used to sword fighting. This fight would be over before it even started. 

  
Russia saw his opening move and blocked it before he'd even reached him. 

* * *

"My dear sister, how is your courtship with Braginsky going?"  
  
"..."  
  
"Has he proposed? Has he given you any signs that he will? I do not understand these accursed Russians, but I heard they follow our ways now on love."  
  
"Brother, I'm sorry."  
  
"Madeleine! What has that brute done to you? I swear he will pay for this!"  
  
"He said he can’t marry me. I'm sorry brother, I've failed you. Our debts..."  
  
"..."  
  
"But there are other nobles, aren't there? Maybe one of them will marry me, and then our problems will finally be solved. Those debts father made in the Indies will be gone..."  
  
"But Madeleine, your honour…I know that you would not, for you are virtuous, but the court gossip says you have."  
  
"..."  
  
"I will reclaim your honour. I will not let this scoundrel get away with soiling you like this without compensation! Your brother will do this for you, as a gentleman!"  
  
"Brother, please wait! Oh, this is..."  
  
"Mademoiselle, there is a lady who has come to see you...Mademoiselle! What's wrong, Mademoiselle?"  
  
"...tell her I'm not receiving visitors today."

* * *

"Incredible. I've never seen anyone fight like that." Russia wiped his blade on the grass, the blood staining the morning dew. Considering how his opponent had fought, the comment from his second was barely a compliment.  
  
"Tell Madeleine I am sorry about her brother." He offered as the second checked the dead body and Russia put his sword away. With his business concluded Russia left, hoping he could get back to the royal palace before his absence was noticed and that the Tsar would not find out about this.   
  
He was starting to think French culture was overrated.

**Author's Note:**

> *Under the reforms of Peter the Great, Russia started to look towards Europe instead of Asia as it had in previous centuries. Europeanization took hold, with mixed success during his reign. French culture was particularly admired and French remained the main language of the Russian nobility until the 1812 Invasion. If you've ever read War and Peace you probably knew this already.
> 
> *Duelling arrived in Russia in the 17th century by adventurers in the Russian service. It became so popular and caused so many deaths and injuries among the commanding classes that it was banned on pain of hanging for both involved parties in 1715 by Peter the Great.  
> *Another duelling note: the smallsword/épée de cour was the most common duelling weapon for civilians during this period. By the 18th Century broadsword duels were strongly associated with Scottish duelling practices, but still occurred in military duels.
> 
> *I got Russia's patronymic (Yuryevich) from Yuri Dolgorukiy, the historic founder of Moscow, who constructed a wall (The Kremlin) around the city in 1156, since "Ivan son of Ivan" is kinda weird. Used by Madeleine because she's polite. 
> 
> *Arkhangelsk is a city on the White Sea which served as the chief seaport of medieval Russia. However as it was inaccessible due to ice for 5 months every year, Peter the Great founded St. Petersburg and shifted foreign trade from Arkhangelsk to St. Petersburg in 1722. By the time trade was moved it was mainly the Dutch who traded there. The city was also indirectly responsible for the only assassination of a British PM.


End file.
